


Mother's Day

by ellbie



Series: Drinking Buddies [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley & Anathema Device Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellbie/pseuds/ellbie
Summary: Anathema prepares for her mom to visit on (American) Mother's Day.
Relationships: Crowley & Anathema Device
Series: Drinking Buddies [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522610
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	Mother's Day

“I’m not asking you to _hurt_ anyone. Just a minor scheduling error or something.” Anathema poked at her food with her fork, smearing a trail of syrup around her plate. “Something that makes it so the plane can’t land and has to turn back.”

Crowley’s bored expression remained unchanged. “You know I’m not a genie, right? You don’t get to make wishes every time it seems convenient.”

Anathema looked up from the mess she was making of her French toast and gave him a pointed look. “We’re only sitting here because you miracled the restaurant open on a Sunday. Seems pretty convenient to me.”

Crowley leaned back in his chair with a smirk. Behind him, a bustle of diners chattered happily as annoyed servers with forced smiles rattled off the specials. The smiles vanished with a roll of their eyes as soon as they turned to take orders to the kitchen and commiserate with the chefs.

“All these people thinking they were supposed to get their Sunday off had to come into work today. Demonic intervention, s’what it is. Pure evil and all that.”

He neglected to mention that everyone would have paid Saturday’s off for the next month as recompense, and anyone that didn’t tip would arrive home to realize they’d lost their wallets.

“I think you just like their coffee.”

The demon shrugged. “Best since I was in Italy last. Anyway, not the point. Point _is_ , my intentions were evil. And you seem to really not want this plane to land on time. Seems it’d be _more_ evil of me if...” He sipped his coffee slowly until Anathema leaned forward, eyebrows raised. “I helped it land a bit early.”

The witch’s face dropped.

“Think of all the jetlagged passengers arriving before their hotel rooms are ready, snapping at the concierges, who go on to yell at the porters. A beautiful chain reaction of low-grade frustration spreading through London all because _you_ ” — he leaned forward as well, elbow perched on the table, letting his glasses slide down his nose so Anathema could see the devious flash of golden eyes — “didn’t want to see your mum for Mother’s day.”

Anathema glared at him.

“Come to think of it...” Crowley’s gaze darted around the restaurant, noticing a distinct lack of pink flowery decorations broadcasting any sort of a Mother’s Day brunch special. “Didn’t Mother’s day pass already? Thought it was in March.”

Anathema groaned, face dropping to her hands in defeat. She grumbled through her fingers, “In America, it’s in May.”

Crowley’s lip curled up. “Well that’s confusing. Whose idea was that?”[1]

Anathema went back to poking at her food, startling when her phone started ringing. She checked the caller ID, pressed her eyes closed, breathed slowly out her nose, and answered. “Mom?”

Crowley watched as Anathema folded over her phone, trying to whisper into the receiver. “Landing right on time, huh? Oh good.” She shot Crowley a look. “Yep, I’ll be there.” A smile quirked up on her lips, and she tried to hide her face further as the excited chatter on the other end of the line got louder. “I know... Uh-huh... Yeah... I love you too, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.”

The smile vanished as soon as she hung up.

“She’s going to spend the whole trip begging me to come home,” Anathema moaned. “What if she asks if I’m dating someone?”

“Doesn’t seem like the worst thing in the world,” the demon mused. He raised his eyebrows when she scoffed. “What?”

“I know you’re not human, but typically we sympathize with each other on Mother’s Day. _No_ body likes Mother’s Day. I’m not even convinced _moms_ like Mother’s Day. It’s a corporate sham, you know.”

Crowley rested his cheek on his hand, mouth turned down in an exaggerated pout. “Oh, I’m _sorry_. Tell me again about how awful it is that your mum loves and misses you and takes an interest in what’s going on in your life.”

Anathema groaned again as her face returned to her hands. “You’re right. Sorry.” With a decided huff, she lifted her leather tote off the floor and hung the strap over her shoulder, careful not to crush the small bouquet of white tulips that poked out of the top. “I should head out if I’m going to make it to the airport by the time her oh-so timely flight lands.” 

Crowley glared at the flower arrangement until the leaves livened up and the petals brightened. “You sure you don’t want me to give you a ride in the Bentley?”

She smiled as she stood to leave. “No. Enjoy the rest of your day. Maybe give your mom a call.” She stopped next to him, squeezing his shoulder and kissing the top of his head, careful not to muss the gelled swoop of his hair, before heading to the exit.

Crowley peered after her, confirming she got a taxi before settling back in his seat. The waiter, who looked none too happy to be there, cleared Anathema’s plate away and laid the check in its place. Then he poured the demon a fresh cup of coffee before ducking away to attend to his other tables. 

They’d been seated right by a window, and Crowley looked out, eyeing the church across the street with distasteful sneer. The church bells sang out, an apparent siren song for the crowd of worshippers that streamed into the doors.

Crowley’s eyes flicked skyward for a moment, before he frowned and began digging through his wallet. “Don’t know if you feel much like talking,” he murmured to no one in the room, “and I don’t know if you’d beg me to come home…” He tossed down a few bills and a hefty tip for inconvenienced staff. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he folded them awkwardly and looked at where they rested in his lap. “And I don’t know if I’m really _dating_ anyone, but, erh… I hope you’re having a good… day? Eternity? Existence?” He chuckled nervously, then cleared his throat to cover it up. “Anyway, sorry about thwarting your Great Plan. Or not, actually. Seemed to turn out the right way in the end.” He cleared his throat again, suddenly embarrassed. He unfolded his hands and rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway. Erh. Miss you... I guess.” He stood to leave, ducking his head to hide the blush that had crept up into his cheeks, and began his slow walk to Aziraphale’s bookshop, whistling the tune of the tolling bells as he went.

* * *

1\. It had been Crowley’s.


End file.
